


it's your love i'm lost in

by stolethekey



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, One Shot, do you see where this is going, for the b99 summer fic exchange, i really don't know how to categorize this but anyway, in which kevin and raymond renew their vows, it's also not really fluff though, light angst but also it's not THAT painful, mcu post-snap au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-07-12 15:28:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19948483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stolethekey/pseuds/stolethekey
Summary: She smiles. “That’s been the theme of the entire Holt-Cozner relationship. Finding love, despite everything telling them that they cannot. Being confronted with danger, with fear, with risk, but making the incredibly brave choice to love anyway.”or, an mcu post-snap au in which holt and kevin renew their vows





	1. counting days, counting days since my love up and got lost on me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OfButtsAndBombs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfButtsAndBombs/gifts).



> well this was inordinately difficult to write because I am abroad and also sick but I decided to combine two of the prompts I got from my giftee: 1) Kevin and Raymond decide to renew their vows & the precinct gets involved and 2) an MCU post-snap au!! enjoy

The precinct is quieter these days. 

It still takes Amy by surprise, sometimes; there are mornings on which she strolls through the elevator doors half-expecting the lively hubbub of a precinct two-and-a-half years gone, mornings where the sight of a half-empty bullpen sends a familiar wave of pain crashing through her chest.

She thinks her subconscious is manufacturing hope. Rosa says it’s a coping mechanism of some sorts, because dealing with the unending despair day-in and day-out would render them completely useless. It makes sense, in a way – it feels scientifically impossible for her to get out of bed some days, and yet she’s been on time every single day since the NYPD had mandated its employees to return to work.

Captain Holt had tried his best to extend her time off, but he could only do so much, and she’d wanted to work, anyway. Being at home is no better than being at the precinct; _his_ presence is still everywhere, and at least at work she can distract herself with the missing people who actually have a chance of being found.

And if she refuses to even look at the eternally empty desk across from her – well, who could blame her?

She doesn’t need to look at the surface of it, now coated with two-and-a-half years’ worth of dust and grime, to feel as if it will crush her, to know that it is a terrible reminder of the void that exists in her bedroom, in her car, in her life. It’s the same emptiness that has overtaken her fridge, save for the one expired bottle of orange soda that she refuses to throw out. It exists everywhere, now; it hovers around the desk Rosa glances at every so often, the one still sporting the _Det. Charles Boyle_ nameplate. It’s palpable every time Terry starts to speak and then hesitates briefly before continuing, as if he is waiting for a certain assistant to interrupt him in a scathingly sarcastic voice. 

Even Hitchcock and Scully are quieter now.

It’s a small solace that both of them are still here, Amy supposes – so many duos were ripped apart by the snap, and the fact that the most consistent partnership in the Nine-Nine was spared is strangely comforting.

In any case, the precinct has been quiet for two and a half years, and it’s going to be quiet for however many years Amy has left at it.

Every day looks the same, now, and for the foreseeable future, every day is going to look the same.

Ordinarily, the sheer unendingness of it all would be enough to send her into a depressive spiral that would leave her bedridden for days, but the practical side of her knows that if that starts it will never end. Sometimes, giving into that slippery slope sounds more than inviting, but her therapist says it’s important to at least try.

So she tries, and she manages to find comfort in the little hints of normalcy that surface sometimes. She laughs when Hitchcock accidentally feeds Scully a tube of toothpaste. She helps Rosa get her knife out of the wall after a particularly rough interrogation. She rolls her eyes when the scent of Terry’s mango yogurt reaches her desk.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep her going.

Every day looks the same, and she wants something different as much as she fears it.

Maybe that’s why a thrill runs down her spine when Kevin shows up at the precinct one day, his eyes dancing with an uncharacteristic apprehension.

She chews her lip nervously as she eyes Holt’s closed door, and as it opens to reveal a slightly-worried Kevin she lets her pen drop to her desk.

“Santiago,” Kevin says softly, a slightly wavering smile toying at his lips. “Would you come in here for a second?”

She stands, making her best attempt at a confident posture, and strolls toward the office, exchanging a brief, confused glance with Rosa on the way there.

“Captain,” she says, forcing some cheeriness into her voice. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Holt says, gesturing at her to close the door. “I wanted to ask a favor.”

“A favor.”

“We know the last two and a half years have been long and hard, and that you’ve been through a lot–“

Something in her stomach clenches. “What is it, sir?”

Kevin clears his throat and she turns toward him as he steps forward, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “Well, uh – you may remember that before – um, before everything happened, Raymond and I were talking about doing a vow renewal.”

She nods.

“We – er, well, we thought that – um, since some time has passed, and, uh, well–“

“We still want to do it,” Holt interrupts, shooting a reassuring smile at his husband.

“Oh,” Amy says, a curious emotion creeping up her shoulders. “Um, sorry, that’s great, but what do I have to do with that?”

Kevin taps a finger on the desk, looking even more uncomfortable. “Raymond thinks you would be a good person to, er, give a speech at the ceremony. And I am inclined to agree.”

“Oh,” Amy says again. “Um, that’s a huge honor, sir–“

“You do not have to accept,” Holt says, watching her carefully. “I promise I will not think less of you. And if I were in your position, I’m not sure I would want to either. We simply – I have a lot of respect for you, Santiago, as an employee, as a mentee, and as a friend. And it would be an honor to have you speak.”

She hesitates, her hands kneading the fabric of her blazer, and glances at Kevin. He gives her a small smile.

“Please don’t feel obligated to, really – we’re asking as friends, and we would completely understand if you don’t want to –“

“I do,” she says quickly. “I do want to, don’t get me wrong, I just – may I have some time to think about it?”

“Of course,” Holt says gently. “Take all the time you need.”

* * *

“You don’t have to do it,” Rosa says later that day, taking a swig of her beer. “Holt won’t like you any less.”

Amy shifts in her seat, eying the neon _Shaw’s_ sign that hangs over the bar. “I know, but part of me wants to. If he’d asked me to do it three years ago, I would’ve lost my _mind_. There’s no way I’d even consider turning it down.”

“So do it.”

“But things are different now, you know? People are – people are gone, and the concept of love doesn’t feel the same anymore, and I don’t know if I have it in me– ”

“So don’t do it.”

“You are _so_ unhelpful; do you know that?”

Rosa shrugs. “It’s your decision.”

“Yeah, and I’m asking you for help."

The beer bottle hits the table with a thud, and Rosa sighs. “If you want my honest opinion–”

“I do.”

“Then I think you should do it.”

“Okay,” Amy says slowly. “Why?”

“That support group you go to – it’s all about moving on, right? About making sure Thanos doesn’t get the satisfaction of ending our lives, too.”

“I mean, yeah, but–”

“Part of moving on is living like you would have without tragedy. And without tragedy, you would’ve screamed ‘Yes!!’ before Holt could even finish his sentence.”

“Yeah,” Amy says quietly. “But…there _is_ tragedy. It happened. And ignoring it just seems wrong, somehow.”

Rosa looks at her, an uncharacteristic softness in her gaze. “Jake would’ve wanted you to do it.”

Amy’s jaw clenches. “That – that’s not –”

“Yeah, it is,” Rosa says flatly. “If Jake was here, would you be sitting here right now, forcing me to have this conversation?”

“I – well, that’s beside the point, isn’t it, since he _isn’t_ here, and–”

“No, it’s not,” Rosa interrupts. “If he was here, you’d be celebrating with him, and he’d be equally as excited for you as he would be about getting to see his dads hold a wedding ceremony.”

Amy’s hand tightens around the stem of her wine glass.

Rosa notices, of course, and her voice is gentler when she speaks again. “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t be afraid to do it because you think you’re disrespecting his memory, or the love you had and lost. If anything, you standing up and celebrating love in defiance of everything that’s been taken from you is an act of incredible courage. It would _honor_ his memory. And he’d be so proud of you for it.”

Amy hesitates, but the more she stares at her drink the more she notices that the queasiness in her stomach is fading.

“I–yeah, okay,” she mutters. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Rosa grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Amy breathes, a smile starting to make its way onto her lips. “Yeah. I’m gonna do it.”

* * *

The ceremony is small and intimate, and as Amy stands at the front of the room, looking out into the faces of her mentor and friends, she feels a small rush of pride at the family the Nine-Nine has managed to build.

“Ask anyone at the Nine-Nine, and they’ll tell you that Captain Holt and Kevin have a bond that is as unbreakable as they come,” she starts, and the sight of everyone’s smiles is surprisingly calming. “And I think we’ve seen that to be true. The snap broke apart so many couples, but it couldn’t touch them.”

There is a collective, subdued intake of breath, and Amy’s jaw tightens slightly.

“I know it’s hard to talk about, and it may seem inappropriate on a day like this, but I think it’s important to acknowledge. Because this is more than a celebration of love. It’s a celebration of a determination, a celebration of defiant joy in the face of a world that laughs at you and says you will never be happy again.”

Terry’s eyes start shining in the front row.

“I lost my husband, Jake, that day. And his best friend, Charles.” She pauses. “Charles was spared a Jake-less existence, and there are times I think he was the lucky one. But I realize, now, that it does not do to dwell on what might have been when what we have, what _is_ , is still so beautiful. Tinged with pain and loss, maybe, but still beautiful.”

She smiles. “That’s been the theme of the entire Holt-Cozner relationship. Finding love, despite everything telling them that they cannot. Being confronted with danger, with fear, with risk, but making the incredibly brave choice to love anyway.”

The pride and love in Holt’s eyes seem to be igniting a fire within her, but it is not the roaring flame she is used to; instead, it is warm, safe, and comforting. A hearth, rather than a blaze.

“Thank you, Captain, and thank you, Kevin, for everything. You have taught me so much since Captain Holt first walked through the doors of the Nine-Nine, both police work-related and not, and this is perhaps the most important lesson of all. Love really, truly, does persevere, and we are all stronger because of it.”

“So thank you. And congratulations.”

She steps back from the microphone, Rosa mouths _proud of you_ from the front row, and as the room explodes into applause, Amy feels the emptiness lift a little.

When she steps off the elevator the next day, the bullpen is humming with energy – Rosa is perched on Terry’s desk, handing him a container of yogurt, Holt is talking to a few beat cops next to the break room, and Hitchcock and Scully are loudly debating the virtues of extra cheese on a meatball sub.

It’s not quite the comfortable bustle of years past, but it’s closer, and for the first time in a long time, there is a smile on Amy’s face as she settles into her chair.

And if she spends the entire afternoon cleaning the dust and filth off the desk across from her – well, who could blame her?


	2. i've been holding on to hope that you'll come back when you can find some peace

Five years is a long time.

It is long enough for Amy to develop a rapport with her officers that is almost as familial as the one back with the Nine-Nine’s detectives. It is long enough for Cagney and Lacey Jeffords to complete middle school and start high school, and it is long enough for baby Ava to start fourth grade.

Five years is also not long enough.

It is long enough for Holt to hire a new assistant, but not long enough for the assistant’s desk to feel less empty. It is not long enough for Rosa to stop eating honorary takoyaki for lunch on the second Tuesday of every month, even as she gags while opening the bag.

It is not long enough for the precinct to heal.

The pain is duller now, and there is generally more laughter in the air, but there is still a palpable sense of grief and loss that underlies the daily hustle and bustle of the building.

It’s why Amy keeps a bag of sour candy in her office at all times - it’s why she sits through _Die Hard_ every Christmas, even if she would rather be watching _It’s a Wonderful Life._ It’s why the ring on her left hand has not yet disappeared off her finger.

It’s also why she really, _really_ , does not want to answer her phone on her day off.

The name _Gary Jennings_ glares at her from her phone screen, and she groans as she reaches to grab it off the coffee table.

“Santiago.”

“Hi, Sarge, it’s me, Gary –“

“It’s my day off,” Amy grumbles, letting her copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ fall into her lap. “Give me this one day of peace. Please.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry, but –“

“Is someone hurt? Someone dying?”

“Um, no, but –“

“Then find a way to deal with it,” she interrupts, trying vainly to keep the exasperation from entering her voice. “Please and thank you.”

She hangs up without listening to him apologize, and has barely returned to her book when her phone rings again.

“What?” She snaps, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Did you just hang up on Jennings?”

Amy sighs as Rosa’s gruff voice comes through the receiver. “Why, did something happen?”

“You could say that,” Rosa says, and something in her voice makes the hair on Amy’s neck stand up. “You should really get here. Now.”

Amy somewhat reluctantly slides her bookmark between the pages, stretching her legs before getting off the couch. “Okay. Give me twenty.”

She parks the car with a vague apprehension, and as the elevator doors ding open on the fourth floor, it takes her a few seconds to understand what is happening.

The bullpen is _full_ , for starters – all of her uniformed officers are there, plus a bunch of people she doesn’t recognize, and as she takes a cautious step forward she notices the top of Rosa’s hair amongst the sea of people.

“Hey,” she yells over the noise, fighting her way through the crowd. “What’s going on?”

Rosa turns, her face sagging with relief at the sight of her. “Oh, good, you’re here. Come with me.”

Amy starts to say, “What – " but before she can finish her sentence, Rosa’s hand is clamped around her wrist and she’s being dragged away from the bullpen and into the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“Interrogation room.”

“But why – “

“You’ll see,” Rosa answers roughly as they come to a stop. “Ready?”

“For what?”

By way of answer, Rosa opens the door.

The first thing Amy sees is a wall of beige slamming into her. “ _Amy!_ ”

She stumbles backwards, arms reflexively rising, but even as adrenaline rushes into her system she feels a chill run down her spine at the voice she has just heard. “ _Charles?”_

“Yeah!” He says happily, releasing her. She sucks in a breath, trying to see if her ribs are broken. “I’m back, I missed you _so_ much, even though I guess I didn’t even know I was gone – is it even possible to miss someone if you’re unconscious? I feel like it is – “

“Boyle,” a dry, lazy drawl says from behind him, “If you say one more word, I will find Thanos myself and ask him to snap us back into oblivion.”

A head full of mousy, brown hair pops up next to Charles, and Amy feels another shock run through her body. “G–Gina?”

“The one and only,” she says, grinning widely. “What up? I am now officially _way_ younger than you – how does it feel to officially be a grandma?“

“I­­ – wait, does that mean – “

“Hi,” another voice says, soft and timid, and Amy’s heart stops in her chest.

Jake makes his way toward the door, his movements nervous and eyes almost shy, and Amy barely notices Rosa dragging Charles and Gina out the door behind her.

A sob makes its way up her throat as the door shuts quietly behind her. “This isn’t real.”

His lip twitches slightly, and he reaches hesitantly for her hand as she tries to remember how to breathe.

“It’s me,” he says softly. “I’m here.”

His hand touches hers, and in that achingly familiar touch, everything comes crashing down around her. She throws herself into him, burying her face in the shirt she thought she’d never see again, and as he wraps her in a tight hug all the grief from the past five years starts to pour out of her. 

“I’m sorry,” he says into her hair, his voice wavering slightly, “I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine – "

“Not your fault,” she mumbles, tightening her grip on his shirt. “Thanos is a dick.”

Jake laughs, watery and shaky but very much _him_ , and the sound makes her heart soar.

“Never thought I’d hear that laugh again.”

He quiets at that, his hands stilling against her back.

“Ames, I – “

“It’s okay,” she says, pulling back to look at him. “It’s okay – “

“No, it’s not,” he says, his voice tight with pain. “I can’t imagine what a mess I’d be if it had been you instead. I just – _five years_. God.”

She clears her throat, holding desperately onto his shirt as if it may dissolve into ash at any moment. “How – do you know if this is permanent? I mean, are you – is this – “

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Holt said he’d brief us all later, but apparently they brought us back and then killed him, so there really isn’t––I mean, this is it.”

Amy lets out a shaky breath and nods, forcing herself to smile. “You did miss a lot,” she says, trying valiantly to lighten the mood. “My squad is _so_ dope now, Rosa and her girlfriend showed up in matching outfits one day, and Holt and Kevin renewed their vows – "

“They did _what?_ ”

She grins. “Yeah, and I got to speak at the ceremony – “

“Oh, my God,” Jake says, looking genuinely offended, “I _cannot_ believe my two dads held a vow renewal and my _wife_ spoke and I wasn’t there. Tell them to do it again. They have to do it again, right? I’m, like, practically their son – “

“We can talk about it,” she laughs. “Later.”

His expression softens, and the longer she stares at him the more it starts to sink in.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Later.”

And there is so much to talk about, so much they _need_ to talk about, but for the moment, none of that is important. Because their friends are waiting for them outside, together for the first time in five years, and there are drinks to drink and proper reunions to be had.

Time is a fickle, dangerous thing – Amy knows that now. But it is also the vessel through which one moves through the world, and as she walks out of the precinct, holding hands with someone she thought she’d never see again, she feels nothing but grateful.

They have lost more time than they can count, but they have, too, gained it back. And now – now, they have all of it they need. 


End file.
